


the words "I LOVE YOU" are never enough

by Greet



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Seokmin, Hurt/Comfort, Lee Seokmin | DK-centric, M/M, Sick Seokmin, Sickfic, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 14:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15487866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greet/pseuds/Greet
Summary: The concept of soulmates warmed his heart; fate had the kindness to leave each person that would love the other endlessly and unconditionally. He would love to spend the rest of his days in the arms of the one person that understood him better than anyone else on the planet. Most people found their soulmate by their eighteenth birthday, whether that be by fate or nature’s design. That was Seokmin’s first problem. Here he was, one month out of his twenty-first birthday, and he hadn’t earned his colors.





	the words "I LOVE YOU" are never enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mainvocalrocky (infinityxu)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinityxu/gifts).



Seokmin spent countless hours contemplating the concept of soulmates. It kept him up at ungodly hours, the thoughts weighing on him like tons of bricks crushing his chest. They were thoughts that plagued his rare moments of peace and solitude; he tried to keep himself surrounded with his friends more often than not, as the intrusive thoughts left him feeling shaken and incomplete. 

 

The concept of soulmates warmed his heart; fate had the kindness to leave each person that would love the other endlessly and unconditionally. He would love to spend the rest of his days in the arms of the one person that understood him better than anyone else on the planet. Most people found their soulmate by their eighteenth birthday, whether that be by fate or nature’s design. That was Seokmin’s first problem. Here he was, one month out of his twenty-first birthday, and he hadn’t earned his colors.

 

Upon first contact with your soulmate’s skin, the previous bleak, colorless world transform and blossom in an intoxicating garden flourishing with color unimaginable and incomprehensible. He couldn’t imagine what  _ color  _ looked like, what the grass or sky looked like other than the bleak, shallow shades of gray he grew to know so well. When soulmates touched, not only would the world around them seemingly fall in line, but their bodies as well. Seokmin spent nights in the library reading all about the transformations that took place when two soulmates touched, the way their bodies synced up and connected in some sort of divine bond unexplainable by science. Two persons could resonate with each other, their wavelengths matching so there was little doubt that they were any less than a match etched by the stars. Feeling each other’s pain, joy, worry, and fear, one would always know if their soulmate was in distress. In theory, it was a perfected and flawless system.

 

But even despite Seokmin’s awe for the universe’s abilities, he knew the soulmate system was, fundamentally, flawed. For the majority, it matched those with who they were destined to be with, but it was  _ broken.  _ Soulmates often fought, abused each other, or never met to begin with. There were several people out there like Seomin- those who had yet to see their world in color and meet the one they were born to be with, and it left thousands of people in heartbreak and sickness. Life without a soulmate was bleak, and after so long it began to take a toll on the person. It left them weak, unhappy, and sickly, their body’s desperate need for touch and affection never fully met in the way a soulmate’s touch could satisfy. Seokmin, luckily, was a bit young for that stage. The further one progressed without seeing their world in color, the more rare it became. In the very few cases actually recorded, the person never survived past age fourty. 

 

According to his research, there were a few reasons as to why one would never find their soulmate. It was possible someone could die young- sometime before their eighteenth birthday- and their soulmate would be left wandering the earth wondering what happened to the person tied to the other end of their red string. There was one, a fate most horrid in Seokmin’s opinion, called an unrequited link. One was bound to another, but that bond was not returned, only for them to be bound to another. They would touch, one would see color, but the other wouldn’t. Seokmin could only hope he was a late bloomer, that his soulmate was somewhere out there, stuck in school like he was, or working a dead-end job. He couldn’t comprehend being alone in the world; the touch and company of his best friends kept him steady, but it was hardly to satisfy the affection he truly craved. 

 

He feared ending up alone, but perhaps what he feared more was never figuring out what happened to the the girl or boy at the other end of that bond. If he or she died before Seokmin turned eighteen, he would never figure out what happened. They were merely a sec in the world that he’d never discover. It did hurt, watching his best friends find their loved ones, one by one, while Seokmin could only watch and internally wither away as he was pushed to the outskirts of the group.

 

He couldn’t blame them, that was just the way it turned out when it came to soulmates. They hovered toward each other, connecting over their mated status while Seokmin was left to tag along, basking in the shadow of their happiness. It wasn’t that he wasn’t glad to see his friends happy and together- Seokmin couldn’t be happier for them. He loved them to death, and their happiness meant the entire world to him, yet it still proved challenging when spending time with them all as a group. 

 

Seungkwan was the first to meet his soulmate. They met him two years ago; Seungkwan was a first-year student and came from Jeju. He was small, but boisterous, and Seokmin, Jeonghan, and Wonwoo welcomed him with open arms. Just before midterms that year, Seungkwan finally worked up the nerve to talk to the cute boy that sat behind him in his biology lecture. His name was Hansol, and Seungkwan hadn’t been able to shut up about how kind and beautiful he was since he entered that class in early August. Seokmin tried convincing him to approach Hansol earlier, but the younger was too flustered for his own good. He figured out from their short first encounter that Hansol needed some tutoring in the course, as the midterm was quickly approaching, and despite not being the best student either, Seungkwan volunteered without missing a beat. They touched the first time they met for tutoring, Hansol’s hand brushing against Seungkwan’s fingertips as he took the textbook from his hands. The reaction came immediately, Seungkwan describing it as if he was hit by a sudden gust of air, his blood boiling and freezing over all at the same time, and he could suddenly see the  _ yellow  _ of Hansol’s shirt and the beautiful, deep  _ brown  _ of his eyes that glittered when he tilted his head in the light. The two of them cried in that moment, the tension leaking from the air as suddenly everything, for a brief second, felt perfect and as if everything had settled into place.

 

Seokmin couldn’t fathom what any of that meant- what kind of warmth yellow had, or how these colors bounced around in the light- but he knew from the second Seungkwan showed up on his doorstep, eyes wide and bloodshot, he was  _ jealous.  _ He figured it was wrong to be jealous of his friend; everyone had their moment. But he was, and as Mingyu literally crashed into his soulmate, Wonwoo, in the hallway six months later, Seokmin started to realize that his jealousy was slowly becoming envy. 

 

Jealousy hadn’t been the right way to describe how he felt after Seungkwan found Hansol. It was more of an empty, gnawing bitterness inside of him that he hated to acknowledge. To say he was jealous, implied that something he had was in jeopardy, but in reality Seokmin was  _ envious,  _ because his friends had something that he didn’t, and it was something he so desperately wanted. He knew it was wrong to feel envy. His friends deserved that happiness, and it wasn’t their fault he cried himself to sleep the days following his eighteenth birthday, his impatience gnawing him inside out. 

 

ღ

As a third-year music student, Seokmin found himself spending an ungodly amount of time in the music lecture hall. To call it a lecture hall would be a stretch, as it was mainly a large room with grand acoustics, choir stands, and instrument racks lining the walls. It was comforting; a place Seokmin could always retreat to whenever he needed a moment to himself. 

 

It was a few weeks out from winter break, and Seokmin found himself sitting in that room more often than usual. He had a major vocal project to turn in by the end of the next week that would count as his final midterm exam, and unexpectedly, Seokmin procrastinated. He spent hours in the room, tricking himself into believing he was doing something productive, when in reality he played random, clashing notes on the piano and sang the same song over and over again for days until he was ready to slam his head into a wall. He was usually very studious, especially when it came to his main vocal core classes, and he hardly fell victim to whatever horrid disease procrastination was, but now he just couldn’t shake it. Something nagged at him constantly to stay away from any sheet music, his heart aching and twinging every time he tried to think of anything creative for his project. Whatever type of creative block he was experiencing, it was one he couldn’t overcome through sheer willpower. 

 

Regardless, he went to the music room again that day after his classes were over, and as he approached the door, he stalled. He heard a string of familiar notes come stringing through the door, filling the silent air. Seokmin held his breath, startled. He hadn’t ever run into anyone else loitering in the room after class. Slowly, he pushed open the door, peeking inside to see a head of blond hair hunched over the piano, long fingers dancing over the ivory keys, and the sudden anxiety in Seokmin’s chest settled.

 

“Jeonghan,” he said, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The blond turned, the melody of piano keys stopping suddenly as the latter turned, eyes and smile soft. 

 

He stood, crossing the floor to pull Seokmin into a half-hug. “Hey,” he greeted. “Seungkwan told me you’ve been hiding here.”   
  
He tried to ignore the flustered heat in his cheeks. Jeonghan knew it was a lie; the elder was always skilled in seeing right through him, but he didn’t have to energy to call him out on it. He was just grateful for a bit of company, as he was sure he would go insane if he had to stare at the piano a second longer. “I’m not...hiding, I’m just struggling.”   
  
Jeonghan took a seat back on the piano bench, tucking a leg under himself as he regarded Seokmin with an indifferent expression. “You still haven’t started your project, have you?” 

 

Seokmin slumped against the wall with a defeated sigh. It stressed him out to hear aloud, but he needed to start eventually and keep his brain from wandering. “No… I haven’t.”   
  
“Locking yourself in here certainly won’t help,” Jeonghan said, ghosting his fingers over the keys, humming under his breath for a curt moment. Seokmin admired his calm demeanor, and he already started to feel himself start to settle down in the presence of his friend. “Why don’t you hang with the rest of us? We’re watching a movie tonight at Mingyu’s apartment.” 

He knew that Jeonghan knew perfectly why he couldn’t hang out with the group. After all, Jeonghan was the only person he knew that had yet to find his soulmate. Unlike Seokmin, however, Jeonghan seemed to have no worries about it. He was cool-headed and patient, admirable qualities that Seokmin lacked, yet he couldn’t understand why. The fear of becoming one of the statistics was so prominent in his head that with each passing month, he found himself brushing his hand against anybody that he could, just briefly, as if passing them by, just to see if he could  _ feel  _ something. Jeonghan didn’t have those fears. He seemed so confident, brave, and comfortable in his own skin that he had effectively been Seokmin’s rock throughout his first years at university. Without him, he was sure he would’ve lost his mind a long time ago.

 

Jeonghan let out a soft sigh. “I know it’s sometimes suffocating being around them,” he said. “But you just have to push it past your mind. Focus on letting go and having fun, yeah? This soulmate garbage isn’t worth getting so worked up about.”   
  
“I’m not worked up about soulmates,” Seokmin snapped before he could stop himself, his jaw tight. “I’m just...stressed about the project, hyung.”   
  
“Then come have a movie night. Get out of his boring room,” he said. “It might give you some inspiration. Sometimes all you need is just to step away, yeah?”   
  
Seokmin shifted his weight between his feet. He knew Jeonghan had a point, but he didn’t want to sit on a couch between two pairs of soulmates, his own loneliness and bitterness just sprouting back in his face and suffocating him. “I dunno…”   
  
“Seokmin-ah,” he chided. “Come on. Will you atleast come for me? So I don’t have to be the fifth wheel. You can balance me out.”

 

Selfishly, he wanted to decline and curl back into his reclusive, defensive state, but the puppy dog eyes that Jeonghan shot him were too saddening to ignore. “Fine,” he groaned. “But you owe me.”

 

“After this, I’ll get Jihoon to come over and help you with your final project, yeah?” Jeonghan offered, moving towards the door with his hands tucked into his pockets. As much as Seokmin struggled to fully admit it, he truly looked up to the elder. He was always, for the most part, collected and calm; he wished he could handle his mateless situation as graciously as Jeonghan had. But there were moments where he was unsure how the elder  _ really  _ felt about his situation. It must’ve been something prominent in his mind, especially being surrounded by two pairs of soulmates, but if it did truly bother him, he had a remarkable way of not showing it. Part of him wished he could keep it as hidden as Jeonghan, but the other half worried if his hyung suffered in the dark when the door was closed behind him- if he cried or grieved alone, away from prying eyes. It broke his hard to even consider it a possibility. 

 

Seokmin forced a smile, closing the cover to the piano. It wasn’t like he would’ve gotten any work done anyway. “Sounds like a deal,” he said. “I’ll meet you at Mingyu’s tonight.”

“I’ll have your head if you don’t show up,” Jeonghan threatened before he left the music room, leaving Seokmin alone. 

 

He stood there a moment, starting at the door in which Jeonghan disappeared from. No, he really  _ didn’t  _ want to go spend hours wedged on Mingyu’s tiny couch, surrounded with Seungkwan, Vernon, Mingyu, and Wonwoo. He loved his friends unconditionally, but each minute he spent with them seemed to wear him thinner bit by bit. He hated that he felt this way, but there was little he could do about it. The most he could do was hope that the movie was entertaining enough that he couldn’t care less what they were doing.

 

ღ

 

He arrived at least an hour late. Not on purpose, however. He honestly had lost track of time sitting in that  music room, pacing back and forth and singing every note he could possibly hit. It was as if a melody was dancing beneath his tongue, taunting him with the possibility of its existence, but every time he thought it would blossom into something more, it would die in his head and falter out into a flat tone. The process itself had been so infuriating yet captivating that when he finally stormed from the room to get some food, he found the sun already setting below the horizon. He had checked his phone, cursing at the sight of three missed calls and ten passive aggressive text messages from Jeonghan. Not that he expected any less. The other was some young embodiment of a flustered suburban mom that was raised in a bad part of town. Composed, responsible, but he could rip someone’s hair out if they did as much as look at him the wrong way. Seokmin wasn’t sure if he feared him or admired him for it.

 

He stepped up to the door of Mingyu’s apartment. He only had been outside that door once before. A year or so before. Mingyu and Wonwoo met each other in the corridors of the science building, an accidental jostle of the shoulder enough for the two boys’ bleak existence to explode into a beautiful, expanding universe of color, delight and possibility. The first time he stood before that door had been that same night as he recalled Mingyu’s panicked, emotional phone call. He had been on his way back from class, and he could only assume something terrible must’ve happened if Mingyu was calling him instead of texting.

 

In reality, it was anything  _ but  _ terrible. Mingyu’s tears were of confused elation. He didn’t understand what was happening. Soulmates wasn’t even a topic on his mind- he was a stressed college student like the rest of them, trying to focus on his classes and get through without his father finding out about how low his grades had fallen. The prospect of a stranger gifting him his colors, something he could only dream of in the deepest of sleep, terrified him beyond belief, and he called the first person he thought of- Seokmin. He wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or honored to be the recipient of such a call, but he couldn’t do anything else but got to Mingyu’s apartment and console him. 

 

Looking at the wooden door with the brass numbers  _ 232  _ screwed onto it made him dizzy. He knocked on the door, swallowing his nausea. He shouldn’t have been surprised when the door flew open, and Jeonghan was reaching out to tug him inside in one swift movement. Before he knew it, the door was closing behind him.

“You’re late!” he scolded, slapping him lightly on the arm before leading him into the living room where Mingyu sat on the couch, arm lazily draped over Wonwoo’s shoulder. As soon as he saw Seokmin enter the room, however, a light smile grazed his lips and he shifted his arm away from his soulmate. Odd, Seokmin thought. Seungkwan was sitting on an armchair adjacent to the couch, legs curled up onto the seat with Hansol sitting on the floor in front of him. They both looked at him when he came in. Seokmin mustered a smile and waved.

  
“About time you got here,” Hansol commented, a lopsided grin on his face. “We’ve been trying to stall Mingyu for thirty minutes, but he’s getting trigger happy.”   
  
“There’s nothing trigger happy about it,” Mingyu defended, throwing his arms up above his head, remote control grasped in his right land. “I want to watch this damn movie.”

 

Jeonghan led Seokmin over to the couch, where he had been occupying just a minute before. He squeezed in beside him, reaching up to play with his hair. “You promised me,” he chided.   
  
“And I kept it,” Seokmin retorted, trying not to let his discomfort show. He didn’t mind the skinship with Jeonghan. Truly, if anything it helped, but even the air between all of them was  _ so  _ rich with soul energy that he felt like he was going to suffocate. Bitterly, he tried not to think about how Seungkwan, Hansol, Wonwoo, and Mingyu could all see the film with  _ color.  _ Did films even have color? They were representations of life, were they not? To think that they could contain something that only those with soulmates understood confused him beyond belief.  “I just got caught up with this song…”   
  
“You’re still working on it?” Seungkwan inquired, tilting his head at Seokmin. “I finished mine last week!”   
  
“Thanks, Seungkwan,” he retorted with more venom in his words than he intended. “I’m trying, I just can’t get any inspiration for anything. Everything just comes up...flat.”   
  
Mingyu interrupted by turning on the television. “You know what might just help get those creative juices flowing? Watching this movie.”

 

Reluctantly, Seokmin settled into the couch, leaning against Jeonghan’s side. Hansol crawled up from his spot on the couch to turn off the lights before returning to his spot on the ground, nuzzled against Seungkwan’s knees. He absentmindedly dragged his fingers over the round-cheeked boy’s knees, prodding at the ripped holes in the fabric of his jeans. Seokmin tried not to focus on that. 

 

He hardly focused on what the movie was even about. He spent the entirety of the two hours staring at a faded, black and white screen, trying to ignore the frustration that was brewing inside of him like a firestorm. He felt tormented from the inside, as if there was some ugly, devilish part of himself that  _ liked  _ to pick apart every little thing and analyze it. Something inside him always picked up on the small, intimate cues that his friends gave to each other; at some point he realized that Mingyu removed his arm from Wonwoo’s shoulder on purpose. He, and the rest of them, all knew how uncomfortable it made Seokmin. It would be impossible for them to miss the longing, conflicted stares he would give, or how he’d seem to detach from the conversation if soulmates were involved. They didn’t blame him, either. If anyone wanted love, it was Seokmin. The universe was just too cruel to grant it to him. Or maybe it was holding out for something amazing. He just had to be patient. 

 

He wished he could believe that.

 

By the time the credits began, Seokmin looked over and realized Hansol was gone from his spot on the floor, only for him to appear from the kitchen doorway, phone pressed to his ear. He wasn’t speaking Korean, which confused him. He knew Hansol wasn’t originally from here, but he hardly ever witnessed the younger speaking English. It was interesting to listen to. 

 

He hung up the phone, slipping it into his back pocket before sitting on the arm of Seungkwan’s chair. “Anyone want to come to the airport with me tomorrow?” he inquired.    
  
Wonwoo looked over at him, perturbed. “The airport? Why?”   
  
“My good friend from America is flying in,” he said, letting out a low sigh. “He’s thinking about attending school here, and he’s staying with me for a few days to see if he likes it.”   
  
“America?” Jeonghan interjected. “Can he speak Korean?”   
  
Hansol nodded. “He’s not the best, but he can certainly get by. His parents speak Korean, but he grew up mostly speaking English.”

 

“Why does he want to go to a Korean university, then?” Jeonghan asked. 

 

“He’s looking for an immersive experience,” Hansol explained. “He wants to know more about Korean culture and language, but there isn’t a lot to learn in Los Angeles.”   
  
“Oh! He lives in LA?” Seungkwan chirped, eyes bright as he leaned forward in his seat. “So cool, can we go?”   
  
“No, you idiot,” Hansol chided lovingly. “He’s coming here. He’ll probably be hanging around me a lot, so you better be nice.”

 

“What’s his name, anyway?” Seokmin asked.

 

“Joshua’s his English name,” Hansol said. “But if it’s easier, you can call him Jisoo. Either works.”


End file.
